His Greatest Desire
by KaylaMartinC
Summary: Severus Snape is rewarded and Hermione Granger is cursed, AU
1. Chapter 1

"The power of a pureblood is undeniably acute. Their power has been fine-tuned, improved over the years of their ancestry. The blood, is thicker, stronger." The thin overwrought fingers brushed across a head of dirty red. The man winced as his hair was torn from his scalp roughly but remained silent.

"It is a pity, really, that some purebloods, continue to associate with lessers. Let this be a warning to you all." He bellowed as he spread his cloak in an intimidating wingspan. "Just because you are pureblood, does not mean there are not standards."

The echo of the body as it hit the ground was sharper than any body Severus Snape had ever heard. The boy's face crunched loudly as it hit the concrete and the hooded figure pushed the boy's lifeless carcass with a pointed toe. There was little applause and little denial. The truth was, this could have been any of them in the room – whether warranted or not.

The potion master remained still, taking in the final appearance of the boy to report later. This had been the youngest murder Voldemort had showcased since his return and it seemed his vitality had not dwindled in his wait. As the Dark Lord continued his rant, he tried to think of any way the Weasley boy could have been caught. Though he no longer played an active part in the Order anymore after Dumbledore's _death_ , he imagined Potter's friends would be just as well protected as Potter himself, either on the boy's demand or from association. There would be no hope in obtaining the body for burial.

"What could be worse than this?" the tyrant hissed as he set the body on fire. The curse burned through the flesh like acid, charring whatever remained in to dull ash. "What could be worse than a traitor?" Voldemort peered around the room at his quiet entourage.

The intensity to which Severus held his gaze to the cobbled floor made his eyes water. The silence was only a provocation for an answer.

"Bring it in." he stated.

McNair and Crabbe left the room. To his distaste the Death Eater numbers were growing again, just like last time. Usually, the new ones, the unmarked ones, were left out of important meetings such as this one. Their loyalty hadn't been proven yet. But behind him stood a number of new faces, peering over his shoulder to get a better look at what was planned this evening. The Dark Lord was making an example tonight – to all of his followers.

He had been on a steady haul up since Dumbledore's death, really the only obstacle he felt was in his way all this time. His murders were more theatrical, his punishments more severe than his first reign. Severus could smell burning flesh and it was all he could do to hold the acidic bile rising through his throat.

McNair and Goyle reappeared at the hall entrance, both their arms dragging a hooded and cloaked figure. It was a human, there was no doubt about its form, a small human. Severus knew before the cloak was even retrieved that it was another one of his students. He obviously could not _foretell_ which one, but he felt it a certainty.

Voldemort levitated the limp body in to the air with an elegant flick of his wand.

"What could be worse than a traitor?" he repeated, looking around with a manic grin. Bella tittered by Severus' shoulder, bursting with the answer, but drowned by fear. This was a show, much grander than anything Severus had seen as of yet, prolonged and breathtakingly suspenseful. Those hooded eyes finally looked to one, his revered servant, Severus Snape.

"As many of you know, one of your brothers has done us a great service this past year." He gestured towards the shadowy man. "He is returning as headmaster to Hogwarts. To make sure that your children learn the proper art of magic." That grin remained as such on his face as he stood in front of Severus now. "Severus?"

"My Lord?"

"You have been very useful to me since my return. I had my doubts about your loyalty but you have proven most devoted." He turned back to the crowd slowly circling around the figure in interest. "As you all know, there will be no muggles allowed in the school any longer." Bella tittered again, "except for one." He gestured towards the body floating at eye level with him. "I will reward my servant and make an example of the proper place mudbloods will hold when our society has been reinstated to its proper glory. "

Any number of children could be under the cloak, he thought, each as worse as the last. And he knew already, the only thing he could do is joyously accept whatever it was this dark lord was offering him.

"Your prize Severus." He was gestured to take off the cloak from the body.

The girl looked quite intact. From the display earlier, it was not his expectation to find her unharmed. Her wrist however limp, displayed a deep red tattoo, contrasting sharply with the paleness of her skin. It was a small jeweled crown, detailed in ornamental gems that erupted out of the girl's skin. It was a crown he had seen numerous times over his life, a sigil he had never found any association with, yet symbolized an important part of his life.

The Dark Lord gazed at his servant, waiting for his gratitude.

"My Lord – " he began, trying once again to remain calm as the panic started to bubble in his stomach.

"I am rewarding you for your incalculable services Severus. Unharmed and untouched."

The crowd took great reaction to this statement, pushing forward to encircle the girl as she levitated softly in the air. Voledmort was being almost kind to her, cradling her in his magic as if to appease some discontent she might have had. But she was not untouched, his promises already broken as he spoke them. As Severus stepped forward to get a better look at his prize, the unconscious body of Hermione Granger floated over the ashes of Ronald Weasley, her wrist adorned with the crest of the House of Prince.

"The girl is your servant now Severus, she will do whatever you command." Voldemort took his time with everything of his own devising. He wished to revel in his accomplishments and took the time to explain what he had just achieved. "Old magic, true magic. She has been tied to the house of Prince, as a servant of her master. She cannot deny him, she will actively seek out to please him – just as she should."

With the recently rushed progression of successes, the New Age seemed indefinitely here. Old Magic such as this, which had been banned by the Ministry for nearly two centuries, would come once again to light. The girl, though he knew not just how yet, had been cursed, sealed to her fate by his old family crest. She was obligated now to any living descendants of the Prince House, himself included. It was a demeaning magic, an oppressive operation that had not even been popular in the darker ages.

"She responds to words spoken and unspoken, the truest of desires never put in to real words. She will do your bidding Severus, and this is what shall be rewarded to all those who follow me." The crowd around him whispered excitedly. The tangible promise was easily believed, and the Lord relished in his followers' trust.

Hermione Granger's body paused in its levitation and landed slowly in to the professor's arms. She was light, never to be a burden to him in any way. She would be self-reliant, but feed off of his demands. She would be bound to his house and his name and carry any load he required of her.

"Enjoy this Severus, you have earned your Master's gratitude."

He thanked his benefactor, bowing unencumbered by his prize. If anything, he was grateful he could take the child back mostly unharmed. He imagined things wouldn't be so forgiving in the future as students were caught or taken in to custody by the now fallen Ministry. Voldemort kicked at the ashes of Ronald Weasley and they rose in to the air, some landing on Severus' boots.

"Take her!" he yelled. "Take her!"

They left pandemonium, apparated in to his private quarters and his knees became weak at the joints. Fire was crackling just as he left it, in his fireplace and his dinner, completely missed, had been served to him by his office desk. It was silent.

He put the girl carefully on his settee, trying to remain calm. There had been so many different times over the past seventeen years – how many people he knew died, and he had to watch, but this. This was different. He'd never come back with a bounty before, never came back with anything.

The faint ache of his mark seemed over exaggerated. The separation of master and servant dulled at the edges of his forearm.

"Fuck."

" _Viscemo_ " he muttered with a flick of his hand. The enchanted sleep she was in would end soon, and he was no closer to accepting what had happened let alone figuring out a plan.

Brass root, quartz, quartz and….

But what of it?

He realized even if he did find a counter curse, Voldemort would know and he'd kill them both for ingratitude.

The half-moon spluttered through the bars of the one small window he had in his study. His inaction tore through him as he paced the room. Dumbledore would have known the counter curse, for all his demands and his frequent intimations, he knew what to do, especially in the face of the unexpected. And now, he was in command without any help from the Order.

He called for his owl and jotted a quick note to Arthur and Molly Weasley. No doubt the Ministry would update them about their son's demise – under fabricated details – and they deserved to know the truth. His mind fell back to his previous ponderings over the capture of the two in the first place. Where was Potter now? How much had Dumbledore told the boy?

It had been both Dumbledore's misgiving and Voldemort's volition that he take over the school. His admission to knowing very little of the business, of children, of anything about the job, hadn't deterred either from their decision. And now….

His owl perched through the metal bars and turned with a confirming squack.

"Go." He whispered softly.

Severus perched himself on the edge of the settee and looked down at the young girl. Tartan blanket tossed over her, he realized there was nothing he could do but make this as easy as he could for her. There were restorative draughts he could give her, elixers to numb the mind, dreamless sleep potions. He would attempt to be as undemanding as he could but there were limits to this curse he knew not of and his trepidation rushed forward. There was little comfort he could give her in reality. There was very little he could give.

McGonagall was not as convinced of the current situation as he had become. He had worked himself in to a fervent belief, that all would be well and he was just in believing so. The girl was unharmed as far as he could tell. But as the older woman stared down at her student, dressed hastily in to her night robe, that fervency depleted into cold water.

"This war is different Severus." She muttered as she took the girl's newly inked wrist and examined it from different angles. "He would have never done something like this before."

"It was only a matter of time." He stated.

"A counter curse?" the woman turned back to her colleague with hopeful eyes.

"Death."

He hadn't told her about Ronald Weasley. Something inside himself refused to bring it up. The woman seemed so rattled by the girl's condition, it seemed contrary to his efforts to bring up the boy as well. Clearly Potter's life was in insurmountable danger if he could be so easily reached by the Dark Lord's efforts. But there was little he could do now. His main focus was to run the school. He'd already revealed the transfer of the boy to the Burrow a month past, and that had cost the lives of some of his colleagues. But now, more than ever, Voldemort had to believe in him, without Dumbledore's help.

"We can't- but – what shall we – " the brogue cut through the silence. "What does it mean?"

"It means she must do my bidding." He stated acidly rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. "It means, whether we like it or not, she is no longer a free agent."

It was a fate, truly worse than death. Her free will had been taken from her the moment Voldemort had cursed her. Her wants were now solely the wants of her Professor. Her mind would tell her differently, but her body would bow to his commands, commands he like any other would make.

He allowed his colleague to remain in his study for hours, pouring over the situation. The deputy headmistress wanted to inform the Order, to alert Harry Potter somehow but she did not know where he was and besides, Severus suggested the news would only deter him.

"If we were to allow these events to unfold, the girl would be safe."

"Safe!" Minerva muttered as she leaned back in to the wing back chair. "She's not very safe right now!"

He pursed his lips, wondering if that was a personal attack or merely a summation of her blatant susceptibility. In any fact, she did not retract her statement.

"I'll have you know Minerva, I'm well and capable-"

"Oh Severus Snape! All fine for you, a servant girl now at your beck and call."

"I beg your pardon Madam but –"

"Don't you "madam" me, we need to-"

"I don't see any answers from you-"

"And your big nose-"

"Professor?"

Hermione Granger did her best to sit up from the couch but found herself dramatically weakened. Instead she lay back down and turned to her two professors. Her throat was as dry as sand paper, but there was this burning inside of her head she did her best to ignore.

"What happened?"


	2. Chapter 2

The girl picked frantically at the stubborn jewels poking from her wrist. They were, as her professors had told her, entrenched deep underneath and some blood had appeared as a sign of her continued efforts.

She'd refused the viscous calming draught Professor Snape had handed to her almost immediately after her waking. To see him, to be anywhere near the castle, was not only confusing, but completely alarming. She'd had no intention of going back to school this year. The last thing she could remember was Harry Ron and herself in a diner just north of Rutland. They'd been a complete mess, unsure, completely exhausted. She hadn't been at her best. Had her Professors saved her?

"Where is Harry and Ron?" she asked, dropping her wrist for the moment, completely distracted by this new pressing matter.

Professor Snape stood stock still, his hands behind his back, as Professor McGonagall looked to him for a possible answer that she too had been looking for.

"I do not know. I apologize."

"What happened?"

He struggled quietly, hoping things would sort themselves out, that she could just understand. He wanted her to take the calming drought and postpone this conversation for just a little bit longer, completely unsure of how to tell her. Before he could open his mouth however, her hands were reaching for the phial and she was uncorking it, drinking the contents with wide eyes.

"Miss Granger?" McGonagall scooted closer to the girl, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. The girl in turn changed her expression from complete weariness to utter abandonment.

"You don't have to explain right now Sir. You look exhausted."

It seemed she was fighting against her words, her tone of voice completely different from the content of her speech. McGonagall looked back towards her co-worker again with wide eyes. Granger's eyes had started to water but she said very little.

"Sit back Miss Granger." The potions master stated and the girl heaved herself back against the couch forcefully as if pushed backby someone else.

"Severus?"

Professor Snape took the girl's pulse and kneeled down before her.

"The curse and the calming draught are in combat with her self will. I imagine-"

Suddenly the girl shot up and practically ran over to the store of potions Severus had brought with him for her. She picked the smallest phial out from its pocket and uncorked it, holding the contents to her mouth.

"You want me to drink this." She said, her hand shaking slightly. She looked at her potions professor in earnest, as if she truly did aim to please him, the shadows of the fire darkening her eyes and haunting the shallowness of her cheeks.

"Yes I do." He stated, getting up and walking towards her. She nodded and drank the entire content of the tube, reaching for him as her senses became dulled and sleep over took her once more.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

It had rattled the professor and that was not something he had expected.

He didn't want to be too far away from her, if she woke and couldn't find him but received any commands, he was afraid she might hurt herself. So he rested her in his bed and sat wearily outside the door, in his study.

He hadn't expected the intensity of her connection either. It was as if she could read his mind. No, it was as if she could anticipate his thoughts before he had even thought them. As if she knew what he wanted before he even knew he wanted it. Was there no limit? Would every waking second be a losing battle for this girl?

It was a curse that had been in existence for over ten thousand years. Books on the subject were no longer in circulation. There was only one reference of it in his personal collection and it spoke little of the experience of the victim. It was, unknowable, the connection between a master and his servant, but something akin to a voice in one's head, telling them what to do. There was no known counter curse but death and no way to dull the connection.

His owl came back from the Weasleys' makeshift home, with no return letter. The dark sky was lightening now and soon breakfast would be served for the staff. It was the first day of school, and expected students were to return today on the train. He buried his head in his hands and gave in to the ache of his eyes, closing them despite his buzzing mind.

He would have to explain all of this to her, as soon as possible. Everything.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Amycus Carrow, and his sister Alecto had made new of the school in a matter of days. The fine goblin architecture that had made the school so famous, had been dulled to its highest peak. The once great hall was continuously drabbed in perpetual darkness, with small candles lighting the tables now. They were more acting than Severus, appointed deputy headmasters in his wake. They knew not of Hermione Granger's situation but he was sure it would only be a matter of time before it came to light. For her safety, he withheld the information from the Order but instead wrote a small note to the acting head, Remus Lupin, that the girl was in fact missing. He warded his fireplace against unexpected visitors and changed the password to his personal rooms. There was no one, he was sure he could trust.

By the time she was awake, he was ready to have the conversation with her, hoping to push out any possible desires or personal thoughts.

"You look exhausted Professor." She stated as he took some breakfast in to her. She looked down at it with ill appetite but then up at him and then slowly started to pick at the food on her plate.

"Miss Granger." He stated "I-"

"If it's uncomfortable, you don't have to tell me."

"You were kidnapped, by the Dark Lord." He finally managed to say. He hadn't realized how easy it would feel to give in to her reprieves. "And cursed."

She lifted her wrist to show him and he nodded. The dried blood still caked the red ink.

"What curse?" she asked.

"It is rare, dark magic. Wandlore I have little knowledge of. You've been cursed by the Family Crest- my family crest. You will feel inclined to do as I ask, you can probably hear a voice in your head-"

"Your voice Professor."

"My voice, telling you things I would like."

"Yes." She looked back down at her wrist. "like a servant."

"No. I won't ask anything of you." He already knew before speaking that it was a lie. He had no control over what the girl heard. Neither did she. He shifted slightly as he stood tall before her, his gaze instilling a different kind of fear in her now. She hadn't seen him since her last potions class of the semester in sixth year but Harry hadn't been resistant in telling her and Ron about his murder of Professor Dumbledore. It scared her to be under his complete control now, to answer his every whim. She imagined she would be forced to do every kind of evil and it would somehow mean the end of her life.

But then there was almost instantly, that urge, his voice in her head, telling her to eat and she found her body complying and eating despite her upset stomach. Tears welled in her eyes as she tried to fight against her arms, but it was no use, they did not even falter as the food was scooped in her mouth.

She gagged as she tried to swallow the porridge.

"Stop." He said. Relief washed over her as the urge depleted and her mind became clear again.

"I will do everything I can to make this easier Miss Granger." He stated and she acquiesced.

"There are certain things I cannot keep hidden – no human can. I want you to tell me when you are uncomfortable and we will find a solution together. Do you understand?" she nodded again. It seemed as if she had no more questions. If it was the curse that made her nature soluble or if she merely understood he could not say. She instead started scraping again at the newly acquired jewels and said nothing more about it. The silence made him uneasy.

"What would you have me talk about?" she asked suddenly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You don't want the silence. I can talk if you like."

"No." he brushed his hands over his disheveled robes. "Please rest."

"Alright Sir."

He was just as rattled and unsure as he left her once again.


	3. Chapter 3

The most obvious conflict was in her waking hours. She was not privy to anything that had transpired really. Every time he tried talking to her, she couldn't sit for more than a minute without bounding around and fetching something for him or saying something to comfort him. Had his mind really been as unfocused as she made it seem? His wants and desires, no matter how trivial danced throughout his mind with such whimsicality it seemed. She had fetched him a tumbler of whiskey, something he had known he wanted, but then she also started the fire for him, _something he hadn't realized he wanted_ , until he could feel the welcome warmth on his legs as he sat with her.

After rising from her third consecutive elongated slumber, it was apparent to both that this situation had to be properly sorted out. He would have to, in a sense, use the curse as a way to combat the curse, quite an ingenious piece of thinking, in his opinion.

"Miss Granger, it is of the utmost importance, you listen to me now."

It was strange to see her tuck herself in to his worn and favorite chair, in his study. But finally, she was quiet and listening.

"Miss Granger, the school is not the same as it once was. I am headmaster now-"

She looked quite shocked to hear it. He ignored it.

"It is not safe for you here, but it is not safe for you anywhere else. I need you to promise me, under no circumstances, will you leave my study unless I have told you otherwise, _with speech_."

"What about Harry? And Ronald?" she asked quietly. "Oh! I'm sorry! I won't ask about them!"

The professor winced as his own personal qualms limited the girl once again. But truly, he wasn't ready to tell her about her friend. It would make her condition much worse. She was dressed in some transfigured clothes and an old robe of his that was much too big on her. She had rolled the sleeves up to make use of her hands as she twirled the sashes around like a distracted child. He suddenly felt very unjustified, angry that the girl had to suffer in such a way. She was really only a child.

"You may make use of my library Hermione, in fact I must command you do so, please feel free to make use of everything at your disposal. The house elves will bring you anything else you might need."

There were so many words unsaid between them and he felt it unfinished. There was no proper explanation, no exact way to explain things because he could not know the bonds between master and servant. It was always different. And she was no servant of his so when she poured the tea service for him and added only a splash of milk, just as he liked it, there was no way to explain to her why she had known that, how she could have possibly known that. And she looked defeated all the same with every action she made and every word she said, as if she was fighting it from the inside out.

"Take your tea." He said rather uncomfortably, and she did so. "It is the first day of school today."

"Professor." It was a soft utterance, one he would have barely heard if not for the dead silence of his study. It was broken with choked tears and her hands dropped the cup of tea to hold her face, the liquid staining and spreading in to the burgundy carpet.

"Miss Granger, please don't cry." He said rather unfeelingly, trying his hardest to sound empathetic. But she did not stop, her tears coming harder with the sound of his voice. Her back doubled over under the weight of her grief. He sat there, uncertain, the tea service between them, not untouched by her.

But as he hoped, despite his qualms about disallowing her emotion, that she would stop crying, her despair only increased as if in complete defiance of him. The past day washed over her like torpedoed rainfall and as Severus Snape, her bounder and her fellow accursed failed in every attempt to comfort her, he realized, with almost mounting joy, that she _would not_ stop crying.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

The Carrows sat on either side of Headmaster Severus Snape, proudly looking down at the darkened mass of students. There were a hundred or so littered at the four tables, the numbers dwindling drastically as word spread about the new administration and the denial of education to muggle born wizards. Alecto had already set fire to several portraits, things, people in the wake of her stay, the true mastermind of evil between the pair. A young Ravenclaw boy held his arm to his chest, the burn on his wrist courtesy of the cow. It was her, the potions master worried most about as she stared down at the few children left, as if they were laboratory rats. She had the misfortune of taking all the unfeminine qualities of her father – squared jaw, primal features, she looked considerably older than her brother. Amycus, on his other hand, had been little threat so far.

The rest of the staff, what was left, sat quietly on either side of him. There would be no welcome speech, no sorting hat, there were only two first years and they were permitted to sit wherever they chose. Severus Snape could not imagine a more dismal sight and the coming year felt like the heaviest of burdens. Whatever of traditions now that the situation was as it was?

Alecto put one unfortunately thick hand over his and he could feel the unnaturally sweaty heat of her eagerness.

"Severus, this will truly be the golden age of Hogwarts, with you as headmaster." She feared him, that much he had in his good fortune. He did not pull away from her, the act too explanatory. If this woman were to find out about the young witch in his rooms there would be incalculable damages. He would have to play his act even better now, to save her life as well.

"Yes Alecto, it has finally come at last."

Her face split in to a smile of mismatched teeth as he bestowed these new attentions on her. He silently looked over the abysmal number of extremely quiet students and thought about the girl again.

She hadn't stopped her wailing for some time, he had done everything to encourage it, had even resorted to commanding her immediate halt. But his temper had only fueled her discontent. It was only when he realized her active defiance of him, so unlike it, that he ceased his chastisements of her person. What could it mean, for her to be able to deny him like this? He wasn't angered by its outcome, in fact he was very pleasantly surprised by it, but trepidation faltered his emotions. Were there limits to this curse? If there were, he was worried what other clauses it might hold. He would have to sort this all out and properly research her predicament despite his previous misgivings.

Alecto kept her hand on the headmaster's for as long as she dared and then retreated. Her sense of entitlement was a false friend and it only reared its ugly head with those she deemed lesser than herself. Subsequently, he was brought out of his thoughts about the girl and back to the reality in front of him. There was a fleeting sense of preeminent failure from the dais.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N Thanks guys for all the positive reviews so far and all the reads. Excited to see where the story goes!**

Hermione's disposition had improved greatly since the departure of her Professor. She thought she might be going insane, had truly feared it, and it had only been a few hours. It seemed like every waking moment in his presence had been a jumble of his own thoughts pushing hers out and it was almost impossible to discern which one of his wants to listen to.

There were some, thankfully, that were louder than others, that were easier to understand and she had been more inclined to follow those. And it felt like relief when she did, as if she were truly meant to \ do these small things to make _herself_ happy.

Once he left, the voices had stopped completely, and she was finally left alone, in his study to mull over absolutely everything.

The tattoo was the least of her problems. Despite the jewels, it didn't react in any way differently, from what she could tell, from any normal tattoo. She was done trying to remove the jewels as they seemed to be only irritated when she did. Professor Snape had explained the significance – his family crest. It was rather detailed and medieval in style, thin lines. A consort crown, a very detailed text of runes of some sort, and what looked to be like wheat wisps or grass of some sort coming out of the crown tips. She had a million questions about it now that she could think straight.

She had a million questions about a lot of things. She knew her professor was hiding something from her - every time she breached the subject of Ron or Harry she would be forced to let the topic go. They'd been on their own for a month – a whole month, trying to start their search for Horcruxes. According to Harry, two were already destroyed, a ring and the diary that had almost killed Ginny in second year. When she thought about it, Professor Quirrell had been one as well. But they hadn't been any closer when she was taken – to finding the original locket or figuring out what or where the rest of them were.

She had already been here for a whole day and the thought made her uneasy. She had to help Harry, to find him somehow. But every time she tried reaching for the handle of the door, an overwhelming pain crippled her spine and she automatically leapt away from any more attempts. He had ordered her to stay here.

And what of her place here? Surely she was in danger with the likes of Snape? He had killed Dumbledore. Why shouldn't he kill her as well? She'd heard that no muggle borns were allowed back at school, so she'd have to be the only one. Would he keep her here? Would he let her take classes? Would he let her go?

To pass the time and to quench her buzzing mind, she had started looking through his personal library, trying to find any mention of this curse she had been under, but nothing at all. She'd surrendered to a copy of Ancient Wandlore in Mesopotamia when an irate Professor McGonagall and a stone faced Professor Snape came in suddenly.

"How can you sit there, while they – they ruin this school?"

"I have little authority."

"Severus you are the headmaster-"

"Hush." He silenced her upon seeing Hermione. McGonagall schooled her affronted reaction and smiled warmly at the girl. Seeing the transfiguration professor was the only reason she hadn't completely given in to panicked fear, and now seeing her again made her feel much better about everything.

"How are you dear?"

"I'm not sure." It was honest. She was confused beyond a doubt.

The older woman took a seat beside the young girl and tentatively patted her hand.

"By now I'm sure Professor Snape has told you about – "

"My curse?"

"Yes dear. We're doing everything we can to find a solution." There was a small eerie silence between the three, as the older man stood by the fire, listening but not intervening. They both looked sullen, defeated and Hermione couldn't help herself asking.

"Professor, if you don't mind me asking, what is the state of the school now, as it stands?"

"A terrible, terrible mess!" McGonagall exclaimed. Hermione's hand of its own accord whipped out and smacked the older woman on her arm in an irate fashion. Hermione retrieved her hand and covered it over her mouth with wide eyes.

"Looks like you should be more careful Minerva." Severus Snape stated as a small smirk crept upon him.

"I am so sorry Professor, I didn't mean to-"

"I know Miss Granger." She turned to her colleague with narrowed eyes. "Watch yourself Severus. Your deepest desires aren't secrets anymore."

"It is no secret that your mouth is bigger than your-"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Please Professors." Hermione interjected, despite the feebleness in which she felt.

"The school is still functioning. With some additions." With all the fuel supporting her accusations, McGonagall seemed comfortable around Professor Snape. She trusted the man. "There aren't any muggles allowed in the school anymore, no one knows you're here Miss Granger, it would be best if it stayed as such."

Professor Snape said little as McGonagall spoke with her. It was more of a reassuring conversation than any informative discussion. The potions master did not leave, but he might as well have been absent. He paid little attention to the girl or his colleague until McGonagall finally got up and brushed biscuit crumbs from her robes.

"Leaving so soon Minerva?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Be more careful about what you say Minerva, you have few friends here."

"You have no control over _me_ , Severus."

The girl sat timidly on the couch, unsure of what to do. She could hear tiny whispers of his voice on the outskirts of her mind but she couldn't understand them. He only stared in to the fire, his hand on the mantle, supporting his weight, a small tumbler in his hand. He was in deep thought, oblivious to her for this small amount of time, unattainable. She put her tea cup down and the clinking of the china brought him back to her.

"I'm very sorry for the state of affairs here." He stated as he pulled himself upright and took a look at her. "It isn't ideal."

He was apologizing.

She nodded her head, seemingly against her will. "I understand." It was what he wanted her to say, what he wanted to hear.

"We will start research tomorrow. I find your case is different somehow from whatever literature I have read thus far."

"Sir, if you don't mind me asking, will I able to go to school?"

"Whatever gave you the notion you could?" was all he said. She looked down again at the raised ink on her wrist and felt utterly uncomfortable. He'd been her teacher and now he was locking her up like some dirty secret in his rooms.

He acknowledged her once more with a nod, before taking his leave of her with an impassive face.

XXXXXXX

It was an entire week without incident. She was convinced enough to stay put while he performed his duties to and around the school. She researched the curse, of course finding very little, but he had encouraged her none-the-less. She was becoming frustrated however, at the lack of answers, at the lack of her resources.

It had been harder than he expected, keeping his mind silent. He had tried to occlude most of the time he'd been with her. It was a different kind of penetration, one beyond the access to the mind. She was not purposefully looking in to his thoughts and it took extra energy to occlude her entirely. Of course he slipped, forcing the girl to slap Minerva McGonagall, but that was worth it. Part of occluding included keeping his desires silent which proved to be almost impossible. He hadn't realized how many things he wanted for, every second of every day; it was almost as unconscious as breathing.

There was too much he was keeping from her however. And as her wide eyes scanned him over morning tea, he knew he only had so much time before she started demanding answers.

"Why are you staring at me Miss Granger?" he muttered handing her an assortment of jams.

"Sorry." Whether she looked away from her own volition or his, he wasn't sure. "Harry and Ron need me."

His knife clattered loudly on the dish of toast. "I cannot go with you."

"Go with me?"

"We are bound Miss Granger, I thought I explained that much."

"Yes but when you're gone the voices are gone too-"

"Has it ever crossed your brilliant mind that it was temporary? We're dealing with a curse we know nothing about. I cannot allow you to leave."

"I've already proven I can disobey you."

"Yes. Since you were eleven. But we're no closer to knowing why." He stated, getting annoyed. It was harder than he expected having someone to answer to. She wasn't a nuisance unless she was in this state but he had less privacy now and it coupled unsuccessfully with his demeanor.

"I want to leave."

"Under no circumstances."

"You don't own me Professor."

She wasn't backing down, it seemed over the week her indignation had grown, as with her self will. It was harder to appease her now, to quiet her. She made to stand up, as if she would leave this very moment but almost as fast as she reached her full height, she was forced back in to her seat again by invisible hands.

"That was unintentional." He muttered taking some tea.

"Continue your research Miss Granger, you are doing no one any help by ignoring the problem." She huffed, slightly assuaged by his commands. "This evening, I will teach you how to occlude, and perhaps it will alleviate the both of us a bit more."

XXXXXX

Harry turned the fire slowly in the air with his wand tip. He hadn't been too sure about the cloaking spells he put on the tent and he listened carefully for intruders as the fire crackled by his face.

Ron and Hermione had been captured and taken for almost over a week now. It had been his mistake. He'd been a slave to his fancies and suggested they have dinner in a muggle diner outside a small town. In almost an instant, it seemed there had been some sort of flash of light and then nothing. When he woke up in a restaurant that had been nearly destroyed, he found himself spared but his best friends taken in his wake.

He'd thought of hundreds of ways to save them, each as ridiculous as the last. He didn't know who took them, where they were taken or what had happened to them. It would be insane – even for him – to go door to door knocking on various death eaters' houses asking for his friends. And so he continued his search, hoping he would find them eventually.

Caught in this trance like state of thinking, he hadn't noticed the small flame morph quietly in to the face of Remus Lupin. It wasn't until the man had called the boy's name several times did Harry nearly jump out of his skin.

"Remus?" Harry asked, lifting the flame even closer to his face. The expression of Remus Lupin remained unchanged, staring blankly at his companion as if unseeing him.

"Harry, Ron Weasley is dead and Hermione Granger has gone missing. No one knows where she is. You must continue the work Dumbledore has set out for you. Do not go looking for them"

Harry opened his mouth, but there was little sound. It was no matter, the fire Lupin had said what he needed to and had dissipated back in to flame.

Ron was dead. Ron was dead.

Death had been so close, so many times, but he had never imagined either three of them dying. He rested his head in his hands. And Hermione was still missing? Whoever killed Ron was probably planning a similar fate for Hermione. Continue Dumbledore's work…

He extinguished the flame and left himself in pitch darkness.

He had to find Hermione before it was too late.


	5. Chapter 5

They stood on either side of the study, him at a calm standstill, her poised as if preparing for a duel. She had very little idea of what to expect from this lesson, or if it would help at all. He seemed rather unsure as well, a battered copy of _Occlumency:_ _Occluding and Being Occluded_ in his left hand. He didn't wear his apprehension though as he took her in. If anything, her nervousness made him feel a firmer surety.

"Miss Granger, the easiest way to occlude is to clear your mind of whatever resides in it. It should be the most efficient way of ridding the curse from your thoughts. That being said, it will not always work - my mind seems to wander very easily."

She knew about Occlumency, Harry told her all about his own, very short lived lessons. According to Harry, Snape was not a very patient teacher. He faulted Harry with being weak and emotional (which of course Harry claimed to be false accusations). Rid herself of everything? She couldn't imagine what her mind would even look like blank.

"It isn't a direct attack on your mind that you are fighting. When you hear my …voice, in your head it isn't me speaking to you, but a direct connection between us." He looked uncomfortable, as he always seemed when they discussed his voice in her head. "When you hear my voice, you need to focus on pushing the command away with something else. Another thought, a memory perhaps. Understand?"

She nodded, though she assumed theory was much more different than practice.

"I will enter your mind first, you will resist me understand? Then you can see the difference between evading my active penetration and my unintentional connection with you." He had pulled himself to his full height as he pointed his wand at her, entirely given way to his teaching persona. She nodded her consent and immediately shut her eyes as she tried to squeeze everything out of her head.

She could feel a cold tingling in her head, could feel a weighty push against the back of her forehead and knew he was there. Suddenly, memories were being pulled to the forefront of her mind, without her approval. Her and Harry sitting in front of their first tent after escaping The Weaslys', looking over the books she brought in her beaded bag, turning the corner in the Common Room and seeing Harry and Ginny kissing, Ron getting angry at the radio late one evening when it unexpectedly went dead, the three of them at lunch in Hogsmeade, - she'd just tripped and her knee stung sharply, lying in Snape's bed only days ago, tired but fearing his return-

Suddenly there was no more pressure and her Professor stood in front of her as if he hadn't just travelled almost five months back. He looked untouched.

"At least try." He muttered. She hadn't done anything to dissuade his presence.

Suddenly he was stock still again. She was about to question him when suddenly her arms started moving of their own accord and the voice in her head, his voice, told her to remove her sweater. She did with little thinking, and once it had been cast aside only then did she realize again she hadn't even tried resisting him.

"This time, try to push me out." He stated.

The voice in her head told her to take off her shoes. _No_ , she said. Her arms were shaking with her effort, her hands grew clammy. He pressed her further and it was as if he was commanding her limbs himself. Finally when resisting felt too painful, she succumbed and her shoes came off .She sighed in defeat and relief.

"Try again-"

"I won't have any clothes left!" she stated. He rolled his eyes and took a step towards her.

"Calm down."

Her mind felt exhausted even though it had only been one attempt. It was excruciatingly hard to deny him. He stared her down again and she waited. The fire was dying and the slow unfurling crackles was the only thing to fill the air. Finally he subsided and raised an eyebrow.

"Miss Granger."

"Sir?"

"You did it!" He looked surprised.

"You didn't command anything."

His brow furrowed and he looked to the fire with a question on his face,

"Yes, I asked you to reignite the fire."

"No-"

"Yes."

"It seems as though, most of the time Sir, I can't hear you. When you're gone I don't hear you at all and when you return in the evenings I hear one or two things, but not very many. Why?'

Severus Snape regarded his student with unease. It was not untrue that he had attempted to occlude her, but surely that was not this successful. Something had gone wrong with the curse, it wasn't as Voldemort had intended when he cast it. Whether this was in their favor or not, he was unsure as of yet.

"Well, we'll have to see how this unfolds. The rest of your evening is yours. I'll try to find some answers." He pinched the bridge of his nose and turned towards his desk, dismissing her. She had not been a burden since her arrival to his rooms, he rarely had time to himself to see her during usual waking hours. But in these moments, the in-between moments he called them, he was never sure of how to proceed.

She was a young girl, captured and held hostage in his opinion with very little in the way of comfort. Her best friend was dead, the other one as good as dead and she was subject to his every want and need. How did he appease her? She didn't ask for much, came off as very shy and uncertain. She walked around with trepidation, light steps, quiet breathing. He could see those things. It might have helped if _he knew what she wanted._

She stood there, uncertain for a few moments before retreating in to the small guest room he had refurbished for her.

The whiskey was dry and welcome. Nowadays it wasn't uncommon for him to have a glass or two a night. When left to his own devices, he thought mostly about his culpability. The murder of Dumbledore had been the last favor of both masters and even though it had been welcomed, asked for, unavoidable, the scene haunted him restlessly.

He would have to stay here and keep appearances now and when the time came, eventually, Potter would have to die. It was a burning fact that he couldn't seem to live with. But mostly everything was out of his hands now, or at least that had been the plan until Miss Granger had been put under his care. This was meant to be his reprieve, his reward for killing Albus, and yet it was the most important task he had been set as of yet. The Order had a majority ruling, he was no longer welcome there either, though it would have been too dangerous now to engage in any meetings they held. It was all up to Shacklebolt and Lupin now but whatever help he could give, he would.

He knew where Potter was – not exactly – but he knew what the boy had been sent out to do. Without his two friends, Professor Snape wasn't entirely sure how the boy would fair. Voldemort had been right when he took the two of his companions and left Potter unharmed. He was useless alone, like anyone would be.

What he found most difficult now was the balance between acting and reality. He had death eaters all over the castle, punishing at will and ransacking. There was little he could say that would not cause suspicion. And then he had old staff members, good people who eyed him suspiciously and wondered where his loyalties were buried. McGonagall made things entirely easier, standing up for the inflicted when he couldn't. But there was only so much authority either of them had.

When he drank, he drank with his soul, taking in the numbing sensation welcomingly, and nesting in to its folds. After his third tumbler, he had little thought for anything but his bed, resting fitfully and unhappily.

XXXXXXXX

Hermione was pulled awake by a gripping force in her back forcing her to sit up. The room was pitch black, her digital watch flashing the early morning hours in neon digits. Agonizing doses of pain washed over her as she fought to remain where she was but they overcame her.

She whimpered as she got out of bed on her own accord, her feet forced on to the cold hardwood of her bedroom floor. Without seeing where she was going, her body maneuvered around her bed towards her door and she forced herself out.

From what she could finally see, the professor had gone to bed, left a half empty tumbler of whiskey on his desk and a number of scattered papers. Through her watery vision, she could see the fire still burning away a relatively new log. Her head ached so sharply she nearly cried out, but it seemed nothing would deter her from her mission. Her feet carried her past the desk, past the sitting area and straight in to her professor's room. Despite her lack of control, the fear in her did not subside. She opened the door with a brashness of a woman who had control.

 _Fight it, fight it!_ She pleaded with herself, wishing they had practiced more instead of leaving the issue be for the night. Her professor was sleeping, one hand bunched to his face, the blankets haphazard. At the sheer force of her fight, she shut her eyes in complete humiliation as she unveiled him and rested herself on the bed. This was hard to disassociate, hard to remind herself she was doing these things because he wanted them and not out of some sick perverse behavior on her part.

"Professor." She said, hoping he would wake before she had to go any further. He did not and she found herself stroking his now uncovered chest with gentle hands. She could do nothing to rouse him, but stroke his cotton clad chest. "oh gods, oh gods." She muttered tearfully. Her arms pulled him towards her, resting him inside the crook of her arm, taking him in as close as she could. She laid down next to him and covered them both. The pain in her head instantly ceased and she whimpered with relief. His breath tickled her neck, calm and quiet. She couldn't move, her body stuck to the bed, stuck to his body. She slowly and methodically started to caress him in a comfortable way, the way her mother would have done to comfort her.

"Professor." She whispered afraid now to wake him but even more afraid to stay.

He accepted her presence as a fact, nuzzling his nose in to the nape of her neck and sighing in content. His arms pulled her closer to him, appeased by her presence.

It was a long few minutes before the realization of another body brought her professor back to reality. As soon as he jerked away from her, it was as if she had been freed from a body bind and she too jumped back, out of the bed.

"What is the meaning of this?" he stammered, also getting out of the bed and standing tall before her. She cowered under his gaze well aware of her state of dress and completely humiliated.

"I am so sorry Professor, I couldn't, I couldn't help it-"

"Fine. Leave now. This is inappropriate."

She nodded and without a word ran out of his private room.

"Damnit!" he snarled, hitting a nearby pillow. What the devil was that? He couldn't even remember dreaming let alone desiring anything. And to think he desired her, to come in here and … and what? Hold him like a little ninny? He'd made a fool of himself and gotten mad at her for it.

Unsure how to proceed, he settled back down in to his bed, wearily glancing at the door she had left open in her hasty escape.

He hadn't even considered something like this. He let out a moan and rested his head against the cool headboard. Why wouldn't he? He should have considered every single possibility. He was a fucking man for god sakes. And it seemed like she could read his mind without him even knowing what it was he wanted. They would _have to_ focus on occluding now, to save propriety. To save her and himself face.

He stood watch the rest of the night, keeping over his thoughts and schooling his emotions. It would not do to have an incident like that, ever again. When morning broke, he was the first to see it.


	6. Chapter 6

When Remus Lupin had worked in this office almost three years ago it had been much too grand for his own belongings. There was too much space for his sparse collection of personal memorabilia. Now that the office belonged to Amycus Carrow it seemed smaller, less grand, less welcoming and even sparser. Outside, the dreary sky did nothing to lighten the room and the inhabitants sat in dimness.

Professor McGonagall entertained him once every two weeks, to keep him updated on the happenings in the school and he for her, the happenings outside of the school. She made it no secret whose side she was on, it was undeniably obvious she could not entertain him in the open. Amycus rarely used his office at all, and the familiarity of it calmed Lupin's nerves.

McGonagall was perched on the edge of the desk, standing at almost her normal height, him scrunched in to a student desk just like it had been twenty years ago.

"What of the school Minerva?"

His voice echoed in the empty stone room. Minerva looked unsure. Surely the issues surrounding Hermione Granger's return to the school were of the Order's concern. She was after all an inducted member and she was supposedly meant to be with Harry Potter at the moment. But something about her condition seemed too personal to be talked about, as if Severus and Miss Granger had been inducted in to a personal affair of their own choice rather than from the doings of a curse.

Not to mention the implications of their unconventional gathering. She didn't want to dwell on that, but Severus was already facing more damning assumptions about his person without this to add to it. Lupin however, spared no time delving in to his school chum's predicament.

"Hermione Granger has come back? Why?"

"Well-"

"Better question, why is she under Severus' care?" He held up a piece of parchment, with the Potion Master's hurried scrawl as testimony.

"Remus, please. I assume Severus told you about Miss Granger's condition?" Remus' face said it all. "Oh dear." She touched her face lightly and looked out at the quidditch pitch for a brief moment.

"Minerva?" Remus leaned forward in concern.

"Miss Granger has been severely cursed Remus. We're doing all we can to cure her but-"

"Cursed? Does this have anything to do with Ronald Weasley's death?"

McGonagall's hands shot to her mouth. It seemed both parties had different pieces of the puzzle.

"Ronald Weasley? Dead?"

Remus nodded. "Severus sent Molly and Arthur a letter a few weeks ago. Killed, by Voldemort." He held the note up again, this time out towards her so that she may read it herself. McGonogall scanned the short, uninformative note, but it was more information than Snape had given to her on any account.

"They must have been caught together." Minerva stated, standing up straight. "Severus said he knew nothing about the boy."

"Well, he did." There was an accusation in his voice. Why would he purposely lie to Minerva McGonagall of all people? There was something not right about this situation. Remus Lupin had in fact worked almost to success in ridding himself of any personal reasons for disliking Snape, but some things were objectively clear to him. "What kind of curse?"

"Very dark, old magic Remus. She had been branded with Severus' Family sigil, bound to him forever." McGonagall explained all she knew, about how both Professor and student were fairing, what kind of side effects the girl was experiencing. She hadn't been privy to the mental break downs or arguments the pair had and naturally assumed they were faring better than anyone could imagine.

"And Harry?" Minerva asked.

"We aren't sure where he is. We sent word to him not to trouble himself with finding his friends. That we would look for them, but he's just like his father."

The matriarch nodded silently. Suddenly things had taken a terrible turn.

Remus squared his shoulders and finally asked the question he really wanted the answer to. "And Severus? How is the school?"

Minerva protected Severus Snape in all forms and manners. It might have been her dedication to Albus that had promoted such a loyalty to the boy, or only her ability to see a situation clearer than anyone else. From the moment he had stepped in to Hogwarts as a young first year, to the time now when he stood as headmaster, she had defended him.

"The school's intentions will never change. To make the best out of every young witch and wizard that walks through its doors."

Remus acquiesced. The gleam in her eyes and the bite in her brogue had him faltering. As a young boy and as a grown man.

This war had not been kind. Remus, like most of the order, was working in secret – job lost, income completely eradicated. His clothes were worse for wear and with an expectant child on the way, he had aged considerably under the stress of finding a lasting solution to the anarchy. The look of complete distrust he wore now, did little to alleviate his image.

"Trust Severus." She said. "Besides that, most things as of now are out of our hands Mr. Lupin."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

She hadn't shown herself at breakfast – which he had been glad for. He was a wreck. He hadn't trusted himself to fall asleep for quite some time until he was too overcome with exhaustion to desire anything but sleep. He was spiteful as he poured himself a cup of tea, bitter over his burdens.

A cracked and yellowed untitled text lay beside his arm – something he found in the restricted section of the library early this morning. Like all the other books it said very little about the ancient magic Voldemort had used but had still contained a bit more.

The curse was supposed to be uncompromising if cast properly. The cursed stood no chance fighting it – much like the ancient magic tying house elves to their masters. He had no doubt the Dark Lord had cast the magic properly. He was a great wizard indeed and only a fool would deny it. And so these malfunctions so to speak – Miss Granger's ability to ignore him, to deny him even the smallest things was a default of her own making. It stemmed from something inside the girl – from their connection. If he could only figure out what that fault was, and exploit it, they might stand a chance of ending it.

He winced as he remembered how it had felt before he had been fully awake – the welcome heat of her person, the way she had been forced to stroke his chest. It had seemed almost natural. Until he realized it was not. And now he felt himself suppressing the memories of it, encouraging a small desire to have it replayed over again. He must have always wanted something like this – not specifically her, and now she was the perfect vessel. No, he would have to show more propriety.

He set his tea cup down, suddenly feeling an insistent urge to leave, but froze in the vestibule. The sound of Alecto's domineering screech echoed outside his chambers. She was reprimanding students, yelling at them at such a high intensity he could barely make out what she was saying. But she had no business in this part of the school, not unless she meant to-

The sharp rap at his door answered that particular question. He wandlessly locked Hermione's door before answering Alecto's call.

"Severus." She breathed, apparently unprepared. He raised a questioning eyebrow but said nothing, allowing her to stammer and squirm. "I was-I was just in this part of the castle and I thought, well I just wanted to ask if you'd like to walk with me to breakfast." In the dim lighting of the dungeons he could almost call her acceptable looking. The harsh lines of her face and the masculine build of her form were not as apparent. But her presence only was enough to make his skin crawl with dislike.

"Indeed. " he walked out and closed his chamber doors behind him. "Unfortunately I just had breakfast and if I'm not mistaken, first class starts in ten minutes."

"Perhaps dinner?" he turned abruptly and she automatically lowered her head in apology. She had always been brash, prone to mistakes, prone to punishment. And Severus was never known for patience. "I'm sorry." She muttered. Nevertheless, it was his job to act as inconspicuous as possible. Any wrong move or indecipherable act on his part and the entirety of his and everyone else's misfortunes would be for naught.

"Perhaps." He drawled, turning in a powerful gesture and walking away in long, quick strides. He could hear her teetering in success and it set his teeth on edge.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hermione sat on the edge of her bed and stared blankly at the floor. The room had been set in neutral taste and she had to admit it was proving to be much preferable over the tent her Ron and Harry had been sleeping in.

The thought of Harry and Ron. Surely they wouldn't be so foolish as to halt everything and come looking for her. On second thought, she imagined that was just what they were doing. And probably going in to harm's way in the process. How could they even think to imagine she was in one of the safest places? And there was no way to even tell them that. No way to assuage their doubts at all.

They had taken all of her possessions when they took her. She supposed they thought there must have been some kind of clue as to what Harry might be up to. But she had made sure Harry had been carrying the bag, not her. So they found nothing.

Her cheeks burned as she heard her professor come in for his mid-day break. She had figured out his schedule as soon as she could so she could make herself sparse when he was around. It was better that way, especially after last night. Her cheeks burned and her tattoo started to tingle as she thought back on it.

It had been what he wanted. She told herself that again and again and again. And yet, it still felt like her fault, like she should have been able to stop it somehow. She thought back to how it felt, the pull, the complete lack of control. She could imagine it was something akin to the Imperious. Even now, as he sat in his study, she could feel a small pull towards him, to seek him out and it shamed her.

She still had no idea about his true loyalties, though she could safely assume he had no intentions of hurting her. But the way he had looked at her, when he found her in his bed, the way he had jumped out and spoken to her.

 _"_ _Fine. Leave now. This is inappropriate."_

And how inappropriate it had been. She winced again. She could hear him tinkering with the tea service outside. For once, it was an uninviting sound. The clinking continued, no milk, no sugar. He took a Scottish thistle in hot water.

"Argh." She groaned as the tingling in her tattoo became a shooting pain. She peered down at it but it was the same red as it usually was, no different. Ever since last night it had been giving her problems, but _this_ pain was new. She tried to hush herself so that he may not hear – that was all she needed, for him to have an even bigger advantage over her. But the pain persisted, doubled even until she was forced to hover near the door and attempt to open it.

It was locked. And the pull from yesterday remerged in a powerful overtake of her emotions. Without warning her entire body was thrown in to the door as she tried drastically to turn the knob. Again and again her body was used as a battering ram in an attempt for the curse to get closer to Snape. Finally to her relief, the door swung open at his command and she fell on the floor, gasping but instantly relieved when his hand came around her wrist to help her up.

"Miss Granger what-"

He was cut off by her hands grasping at his robes, searching against her own free will around his person. He grasped both wrists as she struggled against him.

"Please, make it stop." She waved frantically around, trying to get out of his grasp.

"What is the curse telling you?" his voice was level, academic, as if he was studying the behaviors of a Hippogriff instead of a young girl. The pain however had brought her to her knees and she lurched towards him, managing to free her wrists and wrap her arms around his legs. There was a wrongness to it immediately, the fact that she was his student, he her professor. The fact that he was a known death eater, a murderer. And yet there was a profound rightness to it that soothed her instantly and flushed the pain away. As if rewarding her, her body cooled down immediately as she rested her head against his thigh. He did not pull away but only allowed her this comfort.

"What is the curse telling you?" he said again. His voice was calm and his demeanor sturdy, but she dared not look up at him. Her own discomfort was quick to reappear as she let go of him slightly.

"To comfort you." She muttered.

"I beg your pardon?"

"To comfort you."

"Well Miss Granger, I can say with all certainty this is not comforting." He forced her to let go as he stepped away and looked down at her. He looked every bit the malicious man he always had. Indignation swelled in her chest. How dare he make her feel bad! Logically speaking, they were his desires! He seemed to sense this sudden change in her. He knelt down and sighed as he helped her up.

"Last night… I apologize." He said softly. "This isn't ideal for either of us and I apologize for how I treated you Miss Granger." She nodded, suddenly filled with compassion. It wasn't her own compassion, as the tattoo tingled in approval.

"I can't fight it-"

"I know." He bowed his head in agreement. There was a silence between them. It wasn't uncomfortable but it wasn't easy either. He couldn't say it wouldn't happen again. It just had and he seemed unable to control his emotions as well as he believed he could. He could only make it easier for her, make her feel as if she wasn't the culprit.

He cleared his throat and she was brought back to attention. "I have dinner plans this evening, I will be back later than usual." She nodded. It was of little discomfort to her. In fact, his lack of presence soothed her and she felt as she had before the curse. He took one last weary glance at her, another thing he had no control over, and left her to her thoughts.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hermione's tents were always put up with grace. With a flick of her wand, it had gone up so effortlessly. Harry's tents were sloppy, lopsided, often fell down during the night leaving him in a sporadic jolt back in to consciousness. It had taken him several days to get over the loss of his friends, which had made him realize that they were the only things that kept him afloat. Now…

He had realized, after the initial anger wore off, that there was no way to find Hermione. He also realized he had very little chance of succeeding without her. She had been quick thinking, shoving the bag of supplies and books at him as soon as she saw strangers with wands drawn. Without the books and supplies he would be absolutely nowhere.

He had tried summoning Lupin back through the fire. It seemed like his best bet. He had always relied on the guidance of Remus Lupin and now more than ever he needed guidance. But with growing anxiety he realized it was Hermione who knew how to communicate with fire. Not him.

He tried thinking of all the Death Eaters he knew of – Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, The Carrows… Severus Snape. But it wasn't as if he could go door to door and simply ask for his friend back. What little sense he did have told him he'd be dead before the second knock.

His only option as of now was to study the books she had left behind for possible clues. She had already started making notes in the margins with pencil.

 _"_ _Horcrux – possibility of Harry?"_

 _"_ _Dumbledore's Wand?"_

 _"_ _The Snitch?"_

She hadn't been able to make too much leeway, she had become obsessed with the book Dumbledore had left her in his will. He took it out and examined the fine gold markings. The inscription on the front page was what had piqued her attention. He remembered being so annoyed with her obsession but now he would do anything to have her back.

As his tent flopped around in the busy Scottish rainfall, and his magical flames finally became unsustainable, Harry sat in darkness and imagined the world as it might be now that he was failing.


	7. Chapter 7

He didn't come back at all that evening. She had sat in the upholstered bergere - she wasn't sure why she had been compelled to do so - for hours it seemed before succumbing to a fitful sleep. The logical side of her (for she now had to differentiate between her forced affectionate side for Snape and her logical side now) reveled in his absence, enjoying the late night solitude near the fire. Her body however hummed with discomfort and she was forced to wish against her will that he would return soon.

When she awoke in a rather chilled and victimizing jerk the sun had just begun to rise but still her professor was nowhere to be seen and the room remained unchanged.

She looked out the small window just above the grass and watched as a small group of Quidditch team members started their day with a run around the pitch. Her sense of calm was owed greatly to the fact that he wasn't around – she could tell – and he was asleep. For once in what seemed like a dreadfully long time, she felt clear headed and she realized she hadn't been seeing things with the precision she was used to.

She walked around the chambers, for the first time alone and unencumbered and saw how decidedly tasteful it was. There were no pictures, no personal mementos, but yet his touch was evident in mostly everything – the chairs, the draping, the carpets. They were refined in a way that she thought was distinctly him – tasteful but subdued.

She saw the volume he had obviously been looking at over at breakfast, still sitting at his preferred place, on the table. A yellowed, old tomb with no cover any more, his page held by the scrap corner of an old essay. The page it was open to relayed information she supposed was specifically about her predicament and she sat in his spot and took a hopeful look.

There wasn't much there at all. He had told her that from the very beginning. They were working with something so antiquated that books rarely even mentioned it unless for historical purposes. This book was just the same. No information about curing or relieving symptoms. She turned the page to see if there was anything else about perhaps her tattoo or the curse but the subject had changed entirely.

She read what little there was and before she could help it, her eyes were blurring the words and the tears she'd been trying to hold back broke through. She was nothing better than a house elf to her professor. A lucky exception of course, practicing free will on occasion, but a house elf none-the-less.

She tried to think back to her capture. Perhaps the key to her arbitrary enslavement could be found in the casting. But there was nothing from the ritual or the casting to remember. At one point she was in the diner, she was grabbed by a hooded figure and the next she was lying on the settee in Professor Snape's rooms. It had been like a muggle surgery.

Where had Voldemort gotten a hold of magic like this if there was nothing in any books to learn about it? What had been _his_ source? There had to be something, somewhere that laid out the mechanics of a curse like this. But where? Definitely not in these chambers, and she had been explicitly forbidden to leave them.

She lowered her head in her hands. It was warm with fatigue and emotion. Her palms pressed against her aching eyes as her shoulders shook with her despair. The entirety of her life rested on this one man and he was nowhere to be found, had in fact abandoned her.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He had taken to sleeping in the headmaster's chambers out of necessity.

They were lavish, much too lavish for him, and the rooms looked as they did before Dumbledore's death. The first night he hadn't slept very well at all, the memory of the man he killed saturated in to the walls, the paintings, the various unidentifiable objects that surely held some kind of strange purpose.

His first act after killing Albus Dumbledore had been to ward off these rooms, with the intention of never having anyone – including himself – enter them again. The acute pain, the very real emotional distress of having killed _anything_ let alone his mentor and guide, had forced his hand. He hadn't wanted anyone, especially Death Eaters to roam around the older man's personal belongings and foul them as they did most things.

Being there now was even harder than warding them off. But it was for the best. He remembered her on her knees, begging him to put an end to it, to make it stop. He could not allow any more scenes with Hermione like this to unfurl. The gut wrenching realization of just how uncontrolled he was had made that clear. She wouldn't experience any more discomfort on account of him. And so he stayed there the second night and so on.

He would check on her during the day, making sure everything was as it should be. She seemed resigned, quiet, a little angry perhaps but these were none of his concern as long as she was safe. He never discussed anything with her, only told her he would be quite busy and thought it would be easier for both of them if he stayed in the Headmaster's chambers. The implications of his reasoning were clear enough to the girl and he assumed she would not want a repeat of that night, just as much as he did not.

What was left of Albus' things after his will had been realized, Fawkes' stand – the bird had long ago abandoned the school after his master's death – and piles and piles of dusty books littered the office. He dared not touch anything in fear of Albus' memory and tried to remain outside of the chambers for the better part of the day.

Without the added concern of the girl (abandoning her no doubt, his pride could see it no other way) everything had seemed to regain a somewhat normal pace again. He was able to think clearly again – to aid students and alleviate the Carrows' iron wills a bit. He had started thinking again about Potter and the mission he was to face. He'd known about the Horcruxes – for a while – privy to them in a number of ways but he knew not how many or _where_. If the boy had any sense, which he suspected he could, he wouldn't go looking for his friends. Once again he had been put to the begrudgingly difficult task of watching for the boy's life. Yes, everything seemed somewhat sane until Minerva McGonogall had demanded his audience after lunch on the third day.

She always looked a little affronted to him. Perhaps it was the size of her eyes, or her posture, but he had always felt as if he had just said the wrong thing. As she sized him up from in front of his desk, she looked absolutely livid and he ascertained that this time he had indeed done something terribly wrong.

"Remus Lupin was here Severus."

"So he must have told-"

"Told me about Ronald Weasley. Yes."

There was not much to say about that. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep it to himself forever, and the fact was that he hadn't intended to either. He remained silent, unsure of what to say.

"Why? Why wouldn't you tell me?"

"We had more pressing issues-"

"More pressing issues? What could have been more pressing?"

"The issue of someone who is alive Minerva. The issue of a young girl who's life is seemingly over. The issue of a young girl who has been currently trapped in my chambers for three weeks like some kind of convict. That was the more pressing issue."

She was silent. He had silenced her but his anger tore through him with his own words.

"How?"

"By fire."

There was no sound between the two, except for the numerous soft ticking and hisses seemingly coming from animated machines. He still did not regret withholding the information even now seeing her despair, he knew it had been for the best. Hermione Granger was alive, and she needed them more than any dead memory ever would.

"Does Miss Granger know at least?"

"Absolutely not."

He thought she would argue with him. She didn't. There was an illogical sense to that, that they both agreed on. The girl would be no better with the knowledge of her best friend's death.

"And the curse?"

"I've found little so far. I've currently been trying to alleviate the… symptoms as I work." He would never reveal that she was suffering for his sake. He supposed that if it hadn't been for his orders to stay in his chambers, she would have likely sought him out, as the guilt of having left her and the terror of what he had done to the headmaster had made him as distraught as ever. But McGonogall did not ask. She stood and turned to the large windows. They held the view of an entire school, an ancient school. And in the blaring September sun he saw her as the frail, old woman she was. Her face was worn down by stress and anger, her body much sharper and angular than it had ever been as he remembered. She was a woman who no longer knew, what exactly she stood for.

Below them, unbeknownst and kept in hiding, Hermione Granger was alive and well. For one minute she was sitting at the fire, reading on of the books her Professor had generously allowed her to take and the next she was overcome with an emotion stronger than she had ever felt as her tattooed arm burnt ferociously.

Without consideration, she was on her feet in an instant, looking for the way to end her suffering. Her body moved her forward, against her will and she nearly bounded to the heavy iron wooden door of her jail cell.

Used to the way her body would deny her exit, she was surprised, through her discomfort to see herself within proximity to the handle and took it experimentally in her hand. He had set wards to repel intruders, but he had known her binding to him would be enough to keep her trapped. But the door opened with little effort and without thinking she was flying down the Potions Corridor saving no time for observation or freedom.

Her body was taking her she knew, to wherever the desires of Severus Snape were.


	8. Chapter 8

It had been an entire week since he had called on Alecto to cancel their plans for dinner. Seven days had apparently proven enough time for him to forget about the entire debacle but not for her. It seemed she had been rather looking forward to her plans with the Headmaster, and her prolonged response hadn't been one of careless detachment as he'd hoped, but of hurt pride and undecided action. And it seemed, her attraction for him was deeper than he had anticipated perhaps had even been left to ferment for said past seven days.

And so she stood here now, fermented, seven days later and uninvited, looking as if she had sprung up from the very earth they stood on. The bottom of her robes were caked in brittle mud and she had tracked in wide footprints behind her on the possibly centuries old Persian Tribal rug. He stood up from his desk, uncloaked, pressing his fingertips along the front of his trousers to take away any wrinkles and begrudgingly offered her a seat.

"What's happened to you?" he asked boldly. She looked down at herself with pride and clucked her teeth.

"Some students had detention in the Forbidden forest. Tried to escape." He could only imagine what state those students were in right now.

"Sit." He gestured towards the chair behind her and she heaved herself in to it and immediately leaned towards his desk as he sat down. "What do you want Carrow?"

If he wasn't mistaken, the flush of feminine arousal did swell in her cheeks and for a moment she almost looked like a woman, any other woman who desired a man. Her chest swelled in like anticipation, and the frump that was her body pulled even closer to him.

"I was hoping we could spend the evening together Severus."

Her meaning was as clear as day. From the eagerness in her voice, the volatile way she moved her hands in her lap, every sense of his being screamed out for mercy. Whatever kindness he had bestowed on her in the past could not have been so grossly miscalculated as to condemn him for the rest of his life? Well, disgust gave way promptly to his indignation as she attempted to swell her breasts and woo him with her unfavourable beguiles. If his position offered him anything it was the demand for respect. Her proposition, like he was some common trollop at her disposal could very well be punishable and god damn if he didn't snatch at the opportunity to cause her some pain.

The Carrows, once, and a long time ago, had represented a large boon for their dark overlord. They'd been a prosperous wizarding family allotting large sums of money and land. But following the death of their father and their disinterest to search for Voldemort after his first demise had lowered them considerably in his ranks. Their residency in the school had been somewhat of a disparaging remark on their future and definitely a trifle for the headmaster. Both twins, but especially this particular one, would hardly be considered a loss to any cause.

"Severus?" she asked pointedly.

"Listen Carrow and listen well. I will not be-"

A large banging on his office door seized the confrontation. Eager to end this entire episode, he marched to the door and yanked it open. To his great surprise, Hermione Granger leapt out of the shadows and encompassed his waist in her small arms without thought. Thinking fast, he shoved her back outside behind the exterior pillars framing the door to his office. "Stay here." He muttered in to her ear and left without another explanation. Inside, Alecto had seemed to make herself more comfortable, oblivious to the tone the situation had taken before the interruption but seemingly unawares of everything else. Thankfully.

"Who was that?" she asked, her finger in her mouth digging between her teeth.

He stepped in front of her again, less inclined towards his previous decision and now more partial to a quick departure, and took Alecto by her otherwise preoccupied hands and pulled her gently to her feet. She leaned her body in to his instantly, almost a foot shorter than him and placed her rough hands on his chest.

"Now is not the time for such things my dear." He muttered silkily. "We have work that needs to be done still yet. How can we give in to our desires when the Dark Lord has not yet realized his own?"

She acquiesced easily. Whatever her faults, her loyalty was not one of them. As she stepped back and looked at her promised prize, he felt a moment of relief. Relief that he might have actually saved the drastic situation that had just threatened to unfold. The issue that would come to rest sooner, her claim on him in this unspoken promise he'd made, would have to be dealt with later. Instead, brazened by it, she passed her lips against his neck and bid him a good night.

It took all of ten seconds after Alecto's departure to heave Miss Granger in to the office by her wrists and fling her in to the vacated chair. She was breathing heavily but completely unharmed. With his first assessment over, he allowed his anger to give way.

"Who saw you?" he demanded. Unable to speak, she shook her head vigorously. "Who saw you damn it!" he shook her by the shoulders, hoping to bring some sense to her.

"Nobody." She choked out. "Nobody saw me."

"How did you get out?" he had backed away now, but he could see her perching on the chair, trying to get close to him again. He realized the idea was hardly as revolting as when the chair's previous occupant had done the same.

"I don't know! One moment I was reading, the next, my body was taking me here."

"Your…. Never mind it. Get in." he waved his hand and the door to Dumbledore's private quarters appeared. The girl leaped up more enthusiastically than he expected and bound straight inside. She glanced around briefly at her new surroundings, predictably, her keen eyes resting shortly on the piles of books left unattended in the corner, but sought him out almost immediately.

"How did you get out? Did someone let you out?"

"I told you-"

" _I told you_ , to stay in my study. I explicitly told you to stay in my rooms."

She glanced around again and shrugged as if non-plussed by the entire ordeal. "These seem to be your rooms now Professor."

Damn.

"You must return back to my _old rooms_ now." He had worked himself in to such an insistence that this was the right course of action for them to be separated right now. But when he grabbed her arm to floo back she pulled against him and shook that blasted head of hers again.

"I won't,"

"Now listen-"

"No, you listen Professor Snape." She wrenched her arm completely out of his grasp and took a compelling step backwards. "For three weeks I've listened to you and your ideas. Now you listen to what I have to say. I don't want to be apart. It feels terrible, I don't want to feel what I felt ever again, I don't want to feel the way you need me."

She said the words and he winced at their impending surfacing. He'd hoped she wouldn't see it that way, hope she could excavate herself from the matter, and see his desires as something arbitrary or unrelated. But the truth was, he did need her. He wanted to know he was doing the right thing by her, taking care of her, finally doing something good in this god damn war. It hadn't escaped his notice either how his mind would slowly tip toe to the remembrance of her grasp, the way it had felt to be near her without realizing, the way it had felt to give in to something.

But she wasn't here though because of that realization, but in spite of it, to subside her own discomfort from something neither party understood. It was becoming apparent to him that he might not want to understand. And like all else, he denied his attachment to her.

"I don't need you, Miss Granger. Your slavish aptitude is not my doing and I would suggest thinking otherwise. You're an encumbrance, just like your friends were and it would be good of you to remember that. Now, again. How did you get out?"

She didn't answer. There was no way to answer. He was comforting himself with useless words they both knew to be untrue. Instead, she sighed and lowered her stance. The only way to win was to feign loss.

"Let me stay here." She murmured.

"No."

"I'm not leaving."

Her resistance to his wishes, if they were really his true wishes, was unnerving. She remained in the chair, motionless. "We have to stay together. I haven't felt so ok since… since you left." As if the word "ok" had ever been anything to him but a youthful slang term, as if "ok" didn't mean more than that now.

He took a good look at her now. She looked tired, drained, and high strung. Her hair was messier than it usually was, probably denied the care it was used to. Her eyes were sunken in, as if she had missed a substantial amount of sleep and it occurred to him that perhaps he had done her more wrong than he had thought he was doing right.

"Stay here then."

She sighed an audible relief and allowed herself to look around.

She'd often been in this office, when it had been used by the former Headmaster. The reminder of him set her on edge, Snape's loyalties a poking stick she had forgotten for a bit but now took up occupation again. He had never brought up the fact, never cared to explain and she never really wanted to know his answer so she never asked. Despite the fact that they barely talked anyhow.

The office was dusty, save for the desk and the working areas where Professor Snape sat and entertained. An assortment of objects – some she recognized, some she didn't – sat untouched, dulled and unused. It was the mass volume of books however that had instantly caught her attention and she longed to delve in to them if not for her own personal pleasure. A wizard like Dumbledore could only have collected titles she could only dream of. But Snape's eyes were on her as she searched her new home and his countenance said little of welcome. In fact, despite her earlier protests to remain with him, she felt very much like hiding away and leaving again.

But this was the right decision in any case. She remembered the feeling of his yearning, not explicit in its intentions and yet, there for her to answer. He wanted something from her, and the hole in which her longing to please him, or rather the curse's longing, was almost as unbearable as meeting his desires.

Hermione Granger had made a decision however, tucked behind the pillar, waiting for her fate. This was the obstacle she had been dealt and she would have to face it rather than attempt to wish it away or ignore it. If doing so meant giving in to the wills of her professor – a professor she could not read – then so be it. Harry needed her and if she co-operated, perhaps they could be reunited sooner.

Her head snapped back to look at him, almost of its own will and she could feel the effects of the curse working in her joints. His wanting for something, something she couldn't quite read, was evident in his face and yet she could not respond.

"Professor…" she said breathlessly.

There was no need to explain, her body hummed with completeness as he looked at her with hatred and fear.

It mattered not in which way, or how, its obviousness rearing a head uglier than the irony. He just needed her.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Remus Lupin had been set off the minute his meeting with Minerva McGonogall had ended. He had grown to expect a number of things. The first being that either he or his pregnant wife might not make it out of the war alive and their child might die with them or live without parents. The second was that despite everything, he knew they would not fail. Voldemort would be defeated, it was just a matter of how many lives it would cost and how much time it would take.

But, this news, this terrible news of Ronald Weasley's death and Hermione Granger's capture – yes capture – had unsettled him like nothing before. And now, he wasn't so sure of Voldemort's defeat any longer.

The Order has been temporarily disbanded. They had barely met over the past three weeks. The death of the youngest Weasley son had shattered Molly's usual resistance and she refused to leave the house. Arthur kept by her side, rarely leaving either. The issue of what to do hadn't even been spoken over, as grief and mourning defeated the need for it. He had tried for all intents and purposes to see Ronald Weasley's death as Albus Dumbledore would have surely seen it. It had been an unfortunate event, no mistake. But that particular red head hadn't been the Chosen One, and his death while mourned, could not get in the way of the Order's plans.

Hermione Granger's imprisonment was another thing. Minerva had said very little of the curse or what it entailed but he felt Snape had something to do with it and they needed to discuss possible solutions. Harry Potter had been left to his own devices for three weeks now, and though he loved the boy like a son, he had very little faith the boy could complete such a heavy task alone – _whatever it was he had been set out to do._

Nymphadora had warned him several times to let the issue sort itself out. He was adding stress where there needn't be any. Dumbledore wouldn't have left Harry unarmed, she said, and Snape was a part of the Order, she reminded him. To which he would remind her that Snape killed Dumbledore and gave up any position inside the Order after that.

And so he had reserved his bouts of thinking and worry for after his pregnant wife had gone to bed. He would sit in their shabby living room, in the glow of the fireplace as he did now and consider what options he had before him. He had already stepped over his bounds by alerting Harry to Weasley's death. He realized now what a distraction he must have caused for the boy. But he felt that urge again, that itch to help somehow. He wanted to be sure once again, they would prevail,

He ignited his wand and watched the harmless flame ignite from the tip. If he could just warn Harry about Professor Snape, tell him… at least where Hermione was so they could start working together again. The flames turned green with purpose and he pointed it at his fireplace.

He felt the familiar chill of floo pass through his bones as his wand searched for the boy. He leaned back a little prepared to pull out again, unsure of what to do but something, obstinate, kept him put. He had a duty, he reasoned, if not to the Order, at least to Harry. He deserved to know what had happened to his friend.

Suddenly, the feeling of motion stopped.

He could not see where the boy was, couldn't even see the boy himself. But he heard that familiar voice.

"Remus?" he seemed, surprised, relieved to see a familiar face even if only cast in fire.

A brief pause, a feeling of uncertainty.

"Harry. Listen to me. Hermione Granger is at Hogwarts."


	9. Chapter 9

McGonagall paused for a moment before wrapping her knuckles against the oak of Albus Dumbledore's old chambers. It wouldn't be long before Severus returned and she preferred this particular conversation to be between herself and Miss Granger. They hadn't been alone together since the girl arrived, Severus kept her so secluded she had to wonder if it was by design. He surely had nothing to hide, especially from her. No, she worried more for the sake of the girl. Cooped up for the past two months like a prisoner in these rooms, she was probably going a little insane.

McGonagall rapped again, this time with a little more force. The candied apple she had in her left hand, a prize taken from the Halloween feast (which had been as resplendent as it was every year) was now melting with urgency.

"Miss Granger" she called out, realizing the girl wouldn't answer the door to just anyone in a school filled with death eaters. What with the way things have been headed and the way her own person was treated on a daily basis, she wouldn't open the door to just anyone either.

The door opened laboriously by the small unoccupied hand of Miss Granger. The other clutched at an old and dusty tomb, one finger desperately marking a passage. Her eyes were already wide with expectancy when they lay upon her old transfiguration teacher and became even wider at the sight of the apple. McGonagall figured Severus Snape would take every possible comfort in to account except of those basest fancies. The man probably didn't have any.

"May I come in" she asked.

The door was let open wider and the old woman was reunited after several months with her old benefactor's personal rooms. After the death of Albus, Severus had immediately warded off the space and it had been inaccessible until now. Albus had spent little time here himself during the years of his residency and she hadn't been expecting the new air of domesticity. It almost seemed homely, occupied by emotion as well as people.

She focused rightly on the young girl in front of her and handed her the candied apple. After suggesting they sit down, it was Hermione rather who pressed right in to matters and left McGonagall for a moment, speechless.

"You're here alone."

The observation was less of an observation and more of an accusation. Severus had made it very clear to both of them that any visitors for the girl must be seen with him present.

"Yes."

"Thank you." She held up the apple and placed it on the table beside her.

There was something insincere in the silence, as if Hermione didn't approve of them going behind the Potion Master's back, but although her face remained pinched and tense, her words were short and clipped.

"I came to see how you are Miss Granger. It must be very lonely here."

Hermione's mask fell for a few seconds and she bowed her head.

"Very."

"Does Professor Snape ever talk to you? Does he let you read and do things you enjoy?" He would never deny her maliciously. But he would deny her out of an ignorance only a man could ever know.

"He does." She answered quickly. "He's very good to me. He lets me read all the books I can find, and he never bothers me."

"Hermione, you don't have to defend Professor Snape to me. I've known the man far too long to see him any other way than he is. I'm only worried about you."

"I'm fine. You really shouldn't be here. He wouldn't be very happy if he found out."

"Don't tell him."

She looked up with a pained expression and the older woman cursed beneath her breath. How insensitive. The girl had no control over herself when it came to that man.

"I've been trying very hard to find something about my curse, anything that can help. I figured some of Professor Dumbledore's books might have something, but his personal collection is… quite odd." She held up a book titled _Magical Birds and Unromantic Suicides_. "I've really lost hope with most of them. Every book of value seems to be in his office. But I'm not allowed out there."

It became plain how Minerva McGonogall would be of service.

After retrieving about twenty books of differing sizes and volumes, Hermione was much more content with the entire situation and eagerly buried herself in the first book.

Feeling as if she had little left to offer, and very unfamiliar with the familiarity of this feeling, Professor McGonagall bid her adieus and just managed to miss the homecoming of her colleague.

In fact, there was nothing she could do. She had wracked every source she could find on the subject of this curse with nothing at all to show for it except a spell for talking tattoos. But it was all she could think about when she wasn't constantly on guard for faculty misdemeanor. Half the staff had been replaced by death eaters. Some of them were dead, and then there was the rest, like herself, who's presence Severus had managed to justify. She was already precariously close to being assassinated, surely.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was the first and last visitor Hermione would have. She couldn't really say why she had been able to open the door. She hadn't been able to open it before. Professor Snape had made it very clear that she could stay with him, under the condition she would never leave his study again. The office was strictly out of bounds. He simply couldn't control who came through the office day to day and he couldn't secure her safety. So, for the past month it had been very similar to the first month. She stayed cooped up in his rooms, unable to go within an arms length of the door.

But today, for some strange reason, when she'd heard Professor McGonagall's voice on the other side of the door, she'd experienced an overpowering longing to be with the woman, to talk to her and finally be in the company of someone who cared for her. And that seemed like it was enough to open the door.

The experience however was strained. Not on Hermione's own part. No, she wanted nothing more than to talk to the motherly figure openly. But instead all she could muster out was an ungrateful accusation. It felt as if she was so overcome with guilt by having disobeyed her potions professor that she couldn't enjoy the product of her regressions.

She would never tell him anyway. And he could never force her because he couldn't know to.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When Professor Snape did come back from his evening patrol she was tucked away in her room as usual, this time surrounded by those books McGonagall had brought in for her. She was in the middle of what seemed to be a promising book called _Ancient Curses in Modern Times_ when an Irate Severus Snape unceremoniously burst through her door with a candied apple in one hand and a clenched fist in the other.

"What's this?" he raised the apple.

"An apple, Sir."

He growled. "This was an apple that came from the Halloween Feast. A feast in which I don't remember you attending. How did it come to be here?"

Suddenly a shooting pain ran down her spine, crippling her to the floor.

"I'm sorry." She whispered.

He pressed forward and grabbed her by her wrists, forcing her to kneel in to him.

"How did you get out again? Hm?" he shook her. "How did you do it?"

"Someone brought it to me." She whimpered. The pain was starting to become unbearable as his anger coveted her. She thought she might explode as his displeasure ravished through her.

"Who?"

"I can't-"

"Who Damnit!" he shook her even more violently, letting the apple fall to her knees.

"Professor McGonagall."

"You let her in?"

"Yes, yes, please!"

"How? How did you let her in?"

"I don't know!" she had her hands on his chest, her fingers kneading in persistent submission.

"Do you want to be killed you damn chit?" he dropped her and she fell in a heap at his feet. "I can kill you right now, it would make my life much easier."

"I'm sorry." She whispered but this time it was of her own volition.

"I can bring you candy." He stated. "If that's what you-"

He was interrupted by a large bang from the outside office. Professor Snape was immediately alert and heading in that direction before Hermione could even process the noise. She followed after him until the point just before the fireplace and he pushed her back with a small press of his hand.

"Stay."

He pressed forward through the office door, leaving it just open enough for her to make out the voice of Ginny Weasley. Ginny! She dared move just a little bit closer to hear properly.

"Carrow did this!" Ginny sounded furious. She was using the same tone of voice she used with her brothers when they'd wronged her. It was a high pitched fearsome sound, and it reverberated louder than Hermione had ever heard it sung before. "You can't let them get away with this!"

"Miss Weasley if I remember correctly it is I who am headmaster, not yourself. Now Please return to your rooms immediately. It's nearing curfew."

"You're no headmaster at all."

And with the same loud bang as before, Hermione assumed she left. There was rustling and whimpering to follow. The gentle coos of Snape she could only assume she was imagining, they sounded so foreign. She chanced a few steps closer to the door and angled herself to see through the small crack he had left ajar.

A young boy, one she couldn't recognize, was perched on the headmaster's desk with his fingers pressed up against his chest in a gesture of injury. Professor Snape was gently trying to coax his hand away for inspection but the boy seemed more terrified of the master than in any desire to be cured. After a bit more hushing the boy finally gave in to the demands of his teacher and displayed a severe cut on his hand.

Hermione watched in transfixed awe as the man she had thought to be a death eater, handled this boy with the most care she had ever seen from any teacher. He treated the boy carefully and eagerly, making sure that not only the physical wound was healed, but the emotional one as well.

"Stay clear of any more trouble. Keep your head down for now. Understand?"

The boy nodded his head and hopped off the desk.

Severus Snape stood there for a little while after the boy left, gazing at the empty desk where he had just sat. So, Hermione thought, Snape was working two angles. Much more emphatically than he let on to her. She hadn't given his behaviour much thought. She'd only seen him interact with Professor McGonagall and herself and those instances had been short and clipped, as if it pained him to have to resort to such company. But why wouldn't she think better of him? He had never intentionally hurt her, or taken advantage of any situation despite the fact that he very easily could have. He was trying very hard to find a cure for her, perhaps not for his own sake as she had imagined, but for hers.

She looked down at the tattoo that bound her to him and noticed it had turned a different color, almost looked faded like a real tattoo would over time. Well, time had gone by, two months in fact.

Professor Snape caught her unawares when he entered the study again. Instead of picking up where he left off in their conversation he merely nodded in her direction and sat down in one of the winged back chairs that outlined the fire. He must have known she'd seen but he said nothing to confirm it.

She walked steadily over to the fire place, with a sense of calm she hadn't known for some time, even before her capture. And as her feet carried her against her own better judgement, her mind neither screamed for control or shrivelled in fear. She claimed the demands and her walk was full of his purpose as well as her own.

He said nothing as she sat down in front of him, next to the fire. And he didn't move when she gently laid her cheek against his thigh.

It was a strange sort of comfort but he needed it. Just this once. So he let her press the weight of her head against his leg, he let her closer than he'd ever let anyone before. And while he assumed he was allowing himself to give in to his own desires, that she was doing this out of some forced obligation to him, she was beginning to realize this was not the case. That familiar feeling of satiation after giving in to a command was not there. Instead she was feeling her own satisfaction and she realized it hadn't been the curse at all, that she was comforting her professor out of her own volition.

But he didn't need to know that and she wouldn't tell him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Lupin's house was a rickety old makeshift home he illegally transfigured from an even smaller house. It was never very clear why Lupin could never manage well to do, but it was apparent that he was as far from it as he'd ever been.

As soon as Harry had received the news about Hermione's capture, his immediate thought was to go straight to the school. Hogwarts had been safe, when Dumbledore was headmaster but now who knew who was running the school. And so, he couldn't risk going in alone.

It had taken Harry almost a month to find and track down Remus Lupin. The man was rather private already. In a war with a pregnant wife, he had become almost non-existent, working for the resistance in almost a ghost like way. Harry felt it had been less of his ability to find the man, than the man allowing himself to be found.

He knocked on the weather-beaten door, eager to be inside. Before he knew it, he was, sharply pressed against the hallway wall with a wand digging in to his jugular.

"What did I give you on the train the first time we met?"

"What?" Remus Lupin's glaring face was inches away from his own and he could smell the offensive after wash of whiskey.

"What did I give you on the train the first time we met? Answer, quickly!"

"Chocolate! Chocolate!"

He was unceremoniously dumped to his feet and given back his personal space.

"Sorry." Lupin muttered sheepishly. "Can't be too careful nowadays."

The house was eclectic and it had Tonks written all over it. Lupin almost seemed like he didn't belong, like someone was playing one long practical joke on him. As he moved about making tea it was clear in his groggy movements that the whiskey smell had been fresh. While he took in his new surroundings, it dawned on Harry he hadn't been "inside" for almost two months now and he relished this fleeting comfort (and the hot tea) before getting down to the matter at hand.

"I want to go to Hermione."

Lupin smiled that familiar smile, the one that suggested Harry was reawakening memories of his father.

"That might be difficult. She'd under the care of Professor Snape now. He's headmaster."

Harry jumped to his feet.

"He's a murderer! He killed-"

"I know Harry, I know." The older man waved his hand and gestured for Harry to retake his seat on the dingy couch. "Professor McGonagall seems to think Miss Granger is perfectly safe however." Lupin's recount didn't match the expression on his face.

"How could she be? He's a death eater! Why is he keeping her anyway?"

"Apparently she has been cursed and the nature of it ties her to Snape."

"But… I have to get to her! She needs me!"

There was something in Lupin's expression that suggested this was not the course of action he had in mind and as the minutes ticked by with little reaction from the retired professor, Harry could only gather he hadn't in fact had any plan at all and was devising one within the silence. Finally he pulled himself upright and took a good look at the young boy.

"You can't go there, not yet."

"How could I not?"

"There are more important matters to attend to."

"Like-"

"Like whatever it was Dumbledore had set out for you. Harry there is no way for you to get in to that school undetected. There are death eaters everywhere. And even if you could we know nothing of this unnatural bond between Miss Granger and Professor Snape. Separating them could kill her. No, what I suggest is that you stay here until you can think of a logical plan to go about your task. Instead of worrying about moving place to place."

Harry thought briefly about telling Lupin about the horcruxes. Perhaps he could be of some help. Then he thought about Hermione and what kind of curse she could possibly be under. Why kill Ron and spare Hermione? What use could she be to a dour old man like Snape? But Lupin was right.

"Alright." Harry leaned back in to the comfort of the couch. "Here's what I have to do."


	10. Chapter 10

There was a slightly sinister feel about the chambers. She turned around in a half circle slowly, making sure to look at everything. There were so many small contraptions, some of them made noises all the time, some only at certain points in the day. And even more, some that were completely hostile to any kind of examination and let out piercing shrieks when feeling impressed upon in an untoward way. But it wasn`t those contraptions that left her uneasy. She`d spent the greater part of her days so far alone, and whether that gave her a finer intuition to the unforeseen, or she was going crazy, she wasn`t sure. But the silence, it wasn`t really silence. And the foreboding feeling that she was missing something was growing

After seeing Snape in the light she had, things had been different. Inexplicably, her feelings had changed almost irreversibly. The opinions she`d had of him before now seemed so harsh and she felt a painful shame for ever considering them. The headmaster was not a Death Eater any more so than she was. Perhaps in name and association, but there was no real intent in his eyes, no motivation in his words or inspiration in his actions and for the first time, she counted herself lucky that it was him who had her captured and not someone else. It became very clear to her, very suddenly, that Ron and her had been biased to a fault. She had known Harry had hated Snape from the very beginning. She could remember very clearly their first potions class ever and how Professor Snape had blamed Harry for Neville's indiscretions. Surely Snape had deserved a certain amount of ill will. But perhaps Harry's opinions of the man had been exacerbated in to something unrecognizable.

Of course, his opinion of her hadn`t changed. He still spent as little time with her as possible, occasionally engaging her in a study of the limitations on her curse. They both found as time went by that she could afford more liberty in her movements and her denials. Whether that was because the curse was slowly ebbing away of its own accord, or punishment had merely not manifested itself because she was no longer disobeying him out of new opinions, she wasn`t sure. He was hard pressed to think it could be the former. A curse like that didn`t just go away so to speak and he was ever more worried it was only in slumber to come back with a vengeance.

She busied herself with the books McGonagall had procured for her. They were hefty and she read them thoroughly so as not to miss even a nuance that might pertain to her situation. It took up most of her time and a part of her was glad for it. It wasn`t until she`d found an unassuming chapter on house elves which she almost skipped over, that she found something that might help them.

`PROFESSOR! PRO-`she crashed right in to him and felt the weight of the book press the air out of her lungs.

`Yes.`

Ì think I might have found something about the curse, the-`

`Show me.` No snarky remarks, just hope. She pressed the text in between them and supported the bottom with her other hand.

`Though house elves are coerced in to the loyalty they have to their masters by their own nature, they are sometimes freed from the natural bonds that tie them to their familial obligations. This is often done by the presentation of wearable garment by the master to the servant. However, in some rare cases when a genuine affection develops for elf, the master`s desire for the elf to be free can alter the relationship and give the elf up to its own free will.`

She stopped and caught her breath, the excitement of finally finding something presentable warming her face. There was no answer however, and when she looked up to see the Professor`s angered gaze, her excitement washed away in to trepidation.

`What exactly are you suggesting.`

`Well… I was, here-`she pointed at the text, as if seeing it for himself would force him to understand.

`Which part do I find most absurd, the fact that the great Hermione Granger has just compared herself to a house elf-`

`There`s nothing wrong with house-`

``Or the fact that you suggested I might hold affection for you.``

`Maybe you-``

``Miss Granger, I can assure you, there is not a wits of warm feeling toward you that I harbor that might affect the outcome of this curse. I suggest you keep looking.``

`Wait!`

`What?" he sneered.

`What about that night…`

Her voice had started in a shout and ended quietly as he laid his most withering gaze on her.

`That night?` he repeatedly silkily.

`When you called me to your… bed.`

`That was a mistake. An accident. I can`t control my mind when I am asleep just as much as you fail to control that mouth of yours when you are awake.`

`Sir-`

`You want me to admit I have a soft spot for you. To add some kind of meaning to this entire debacle when there is no meaning to be found. There is a megalomaniac thirsty for power and death, there is me and there is you. We are both victims here, I no less than you, Miss Granger.. What modicum of kindness I show you does not equate to an affection deep enough to override a centuries old curse.``

He was quite finished, and made as such apparent however, the obstinate Gryffindor was not.

``Why did you call me to your bed then.`

They hadn`t spoken about it properly since it happened.

`Why did you let me rest my head on your knee the other day.`

Another thing they had never mentioned again.

`Don't flatter yourself Granger. Loneliness favors no shape.`

`You`re not as cruel as you make yourself out to be.` she stated, closing the text and folding it to her chest as armor. If you were, you would have killed me by now, or used me for exactly what the Dark Lord intended when he… gave me to you. But I`m still alive, and despite your rather dangerous temper, I am unharmed and healthy. Those must be your desires, otherwise it wouldn`t be so. `

He opened his mouth to argue but she pressed on.

`Furthermore, I think we both know that you prefer when I`m around more than if I`m not. ` Her referral to the many times he`d called to her unknowingly, passed between them and landed on his shoulders. " If that`s what you need, if that`s what you want, I can do it Sir.``

She managed one more glance before setting her gaze on the carpet. He couldn`t deny her evidence and it seemed his inability to refute her had stunned him in to anger. But what good could come from continuously pushing it aside and letting it sit there. If they understood how this curse worked, at least they could figure out a way to make it work for them instead of against them. She took a deep breath and continued

`Sir-`

"Enough Granger, that is enough.`

His voice was suddenly weary and he sat in hi favored winged back chair against the fire.

"Ì am sorry.` he stated.

She wasn`t sure if he was apologizing in admission or for his temper but she dared not ask. Instead her forgiveness was all encompassing as she resumed her spot with her head against his knee. He didn't touch her, gave no sign of pleasure or displeasure but without actions or words they had come to some kind of understanding. He cared for her, enough to give her as much of a free will as he could.

"It doesn't explain why I can't hear your commands in my head all the time, this curse, it's supposed to be intense, isn't it?"

`Yes.` he agreed. It only explained why she wasn`t completely at his mercy, driven insane by his commands and desires. She looked in to the fire for a little while and watched as the flames flared once, twice, three times, as if the floo was being activated. No one entered the headmaster`s private quarters however. "It would have driven any sane person completely mad by now."

`Professor`

`Yes.`

`Can-can muggleborns have house elves`

`No. There`s no magic to tie them. A house elf can choose who to serve, they can be fiercely loyal to anyone. But the reason why so many elves serve pureblood families is because the magical draw is so strong. A wizard`s magic is part of what drives such loyalty.`

`What about an elf with no magic? Would it still make a magical tie`

`What good would an elf with no magic be` he asked already battling with a disdain for the nosey creatures. An elf with no magic would be completely unbearable.

She didn`t press the matter further. Instead she started to gaze again at the tattoo on her arm. The question she'd been meaning to ask him, but never found the right time to suddenly made its self clear.

"Professor"

"Yes, Miss Granger" he muttered.

"Can you tell me about your family? About the crest?"

There was a brief moment of silence as he decided if he would in fact tell her. To relay intimate details about his past and his heritage seemed redundant, but he supposed they were harmless details.

"The Prince Family is one of the oldest pureblood families in England. The name came from a time when there were in fact Princes and Princesses-"

"Wizarding Britain had Monarchies?"

"Yes" he sounded surprised she hadn't known. "The idea of divine right was actually a concept that had its roots in magical power. The so called gift of human divinity was only a manifestation of magic. Of course a developing mistrust of magic and anything muggles could hardly understand soon pushed wizards in to reclusion. And so we had our own monarchies for a time, but a species as advanced as us could hardly hold on to something so archaic." Hermione snorted, thinking of all the medieval technologies wizards still employed. "Never-the-less, the Prince family had been one of the first ruling families after the divide. The family Crest was a fitting symbol and it was kept long after our reign as a symbol of power and a reminder of it as well."

"And now? What of the Prince name?"

"There are a few Princes left. My grandmother and my uncle. My mother died long ago. It seems the name will die out soon." There was no sadness in his voice. She felt if her family had such an amazing history she'd be proud, but this was Snape. He didn't take pride in seemingly illogical things like one's heritage.

"And the wheat?" she fingered the wisps of wheat that were held in the crown. Now that she knew the crown had actually represented royalty, she was curious to know how such a contrasting symbol of wheat would play in.

"I beg your pardon?" she raised her arm for his examination and he moved away to garner a better look. "What the devil?" he pulled her arm (rather roughly) closer to his face for examination. "That was never part of it." He muttered.

She looked at his face from where she still sat on the floor. For just a brief moment this all seemed rather fantastical. She would never have assumed to know the Potions Professor well enough to be lounging on his study floor, now with her arm in his grasp. His fingers were strong and large, calloused and well-manicured. They held her in place with a strong force, but not enough to harm her. However the look he proceeded to give her brought her rather quickly back to her very real reality.

"Why did you not mention this before?" he asked, letting her arm drop and standing up.

"What do you mean?" she asked, standing as well. "You knew I had the branding."

"That is a bastardization of my family crest. There was never any wheat, ever."

"What do you think it means then?" Had Voldemort tied her to the wrong family? Had he made a mistake? Professor Snape gave her a hard look as he thought of the implication. Not one to be left confused for long, realization daned on him as apparently as the morning sun after a frigid night.

"Granger."

"Yes."

"No. no. Granger, it means?"

"I don't know-"

"Farmer, it means farmer in Old English if I'm not mistaken."

Suddenly the tattoo on her arm meant something entirely different. It wasn't just Professor Snape's family crest tattooed on her arm to claim his property. It was a combination of her and him, just as it had been throughout this entire time. Her will had been hers and yet not hers at all. She had been a kind of servant to him, tied to him but not tied at all. It was the combination of the two, her and him that had saved her from the completion of the curse.

"It must have been some kind of mistake, some kind of alteration in the magic… What was it you said about house elves?"

"What?" she was dizzy with confusion.

"You were drabbling on about muggles and house elves."

"I asked you if a house elf could be tied to a muggle…"

He paced away from her, his expression drawn in to a deep frown. He was thinking very seriously about something and the thought that they might be close to an answer made her feel giddy.

"The curse must not have worked as the Dark Lord had intended." He finally muttered. "Because-"

"Because I'm muggle born."

"It would be like a tie between a house elf with no magic, and a wizard. Except you very well have magic. It was your descendancy as a muggle that saved you from most of the curse." He pointed at her arm again. "It's your magical abilities that draw you to me, that force you to comply against your wishes."

"And" she remembered what she had just read "my loyalty to you."

"I can't see it being much, by far." He said the words but he barely believed them now. The mutual affection they seemed to hold for each other was undeniable now.

Finally, after two months of absolutely nothing, here was something. She felt relief knowing they knew something, finally. If they could work with it, maybe they could combat this curse once and for all.

Her relief was short lived as she watched Snape's expression turn from one of thought and understanding to dreadful passivity.

"My Lord." He stated as he bowed his head. Hermione turned to look behind her and saw standing in all of his grotesque power, the monster who had put her here in the first place and whose reign had showered terror and pain over her for the past seven years. Standing before her was Lord Voldemort and beside him Alecto Carrow with a funeral urn in her hands.


End file.
